The Grave Diggers
by xSummonerYunax
Summary: Tali is feeling a little insecure, but Shepard cheers her up and helps instill confidence in her sexuality. ME2, pre Tali/Shepard love scene and Suicide Mission


A/N: This story takes place sometime before the Shepard/Tali love scene and the suicide mission in ME2. It essentially grants me liberty to play around and get creative with how Shepard and Tali may be intimate with each other prior to Tali's "herbal supplements and antibiotics" route, so some lemon-y contents will follow in Part 2.

Disclaimer: Bioware owns Mass Effect and all its characters. I simply own the pleasure of writing this story featuring my favorite Mass Effect couple, Tali and Shepard!

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><p><strong><span>The Grave Diggers<span>**

This place was alive. Well, of course it was alive, but I had meant that club Afterlife felt like a living, breathing entity that was as enormous as the Normandy. Though I was simply sitting at the bar, I felt as if Afterlife was moving like the stampede of krogans. Heavy club music with warlike beats pulsed through the veins of the club, sweeping countless people to the dance floor and possessing them to move their bodies in ways I had never thought possible. Women in their tight latex suits were able to sway and bend in ways I thought only the malleable metals I worked with in the engine room could, the shiny surfaces of their black suits swimming under frantic neon lights like oil through hydraulic cylinders.

The fire holograms that flared through the club walls made me hot and slightly faint, reminding me of childhood days spent inside more rudimentary engine rooms with insufficient cooling mechanisms. As uncomfortable as I was, I could not deny the fact that I had never felt as animated as I did now. Sure, I had gone through countless physical and emotional battles and helped saved the galaxy and a few colonies here and there, but I could not remember a time when I was imploding with a storm of nasty emotions to this extent. Not even the geth had evoked these foreign sensations—simply because I was not in love with them, obviously.

In my little corner, hidden behind some rambunctious attendees of Afterlife, I did what I knew best: observe, learn, and imitate, except I was having an excruciating time getting past the first step. The main blockage was fear; fear of what my people would think if I were to betray my body in any other manner besides combat and true intimacy, fear of what other lengths I may go to in order to be with one of the most highly regarded and brilliant heroes in the galaxy, and what I would have to do to afford the upkeep of his requited attention and feelings.

I tried to rationalize why my female crewmates were letting loose at this level. Was it because of our suicide mission? That was the only explanation that made sense.

Even birthday lady, Doctor Chakwas, was singing, clapping, and dancing on the opposite end of the room like a bosh'tet, rallying younger men around her to join in on the fun. It was hard to believe, but the doctor was actually the tamest out of all the female crew members. Miranda and Kelly had taken this opportunity to dress in the shortest of short skirts and the tightest of tight tops. Jack was in her usual attire, if you could even call it one. The trio formed a ring around Shepard at the center of the dance floor, each lady with her seventh drink in her hand (yes, I counted), grinding against Shepard as if he were some well-oiled machine.

I scanned the floor for the guys, but could not locate any of them except for Kenneth, who was chatting in a corner with Gabby and Samara. I smiled at the sight of the only refined women in this room. Sweet Gabby and Samara, just talking like civilized beings and drinking moderately, unlike those harlots!

Though it hurt me to see Shepard having fun with my other shipmates, I could not tear my eyes away from them. I was capable of understanding and applying the most complicated technology, but my mind could not seem to wrap around how these women were able to move in a way that defied physics. How could they shake like that, and so fast? And Keelah! Is Miranda even wearing a bra?

Shepard seemed to have been thinking the same thing as his eyes fell below Miranda's neck after he took a swig of his drink, nearly depleting his glass in one gulp. His attention was only diverted once Kelly grabbed his arm, tiptoed, and playfully licked his ear before whispering something to him, causing them both to burst into laughter. Shepard must have thought it was hilarious, because he decided to share it with Miranda and Jack, and then all four of them howled in glee, their laughter piercing through the blaring music and annoying me to the core. Who would have ever thought that Miranda and Jack would be laughing side by side? I suppose that's the effect of alcohol.

It was a bit awkward seeing my well-respected crew mates drunk and so promiscuous, but I guess this was just one of many sides to them—one that they were able to unabashedly displayed forth. I didn't want to admit it, but I was envious. I would like to believe that I too was multi-dimensional with a "wild" side, but it was difficult for me to project any of that in my suit and mask. Even now, I could hear my late father telling me in his exasperated tone, "You're a bubble child, Tali. Make sure your bubble's never in trouble." He used to say that to me all the time when I was younger, out of fear that I would do something rash and jeopardize my health.

"But I'm not a child anymore, and for once I'd like to see what it'd be like if my bubble were in trouble," I whispered sadly, a heavy weight of loss anchoring to my chest as I thought about my father's death and how much he would have hated Shepard. A tiny smile quivered on my lips as I imagined their meeting, and then the tears dribbled down my cheeks. I cried enough tears for Daddy's share too, if phantoms could weep that is.

"Oh Honey, are you sure you're up for your third glass of Frozen Pyjak?" The human bartender placed the beverage in front of me and dropped a fresh whirly straw into my drink, specifically selecting a purple one per my earlier request.

She was curvy, and though she had a lot of makeup on, her face was still pretty, really pretty. Her hair was long and roughed-up. The bartender looked strangely familiar. I stared relentlessly, determined to figure out where I had seen her. Tilting my head, I scrutinized her face like a foreign object. "Ah ha!" I exclaimed, my memories reeling back to an entertainment I had downloaded a few days ago that taught me the difference between an "ass man" and a "breast man".

She accepted my payment for the drink with a quick bow. "Hmm?"

"You could be Aurora Lexi's twin sister! She's from this human mating video I watched. You mate a lot, too?" My body quivered as I thought back to the video, the people in the act replaced by Shepard and me in my fantasies.

She looked at me as if my hands had just sprouted four more fingers, and then the corners of her mouth tugged upwards. She cracked into hysterical laughter. "Oh Sweetheart, you need a man," she declared and walked off.

"I don't _need_ a man. I already have one!" I said in between my clenched teeth and slammed my drink onto the bar top.

I thought back to the promise I had made to Shepard about researching temporary immune-boosters and antibiotic injections; they had to be much stronger than the ones I use now whenever I was exposed for suit repairs and hygiene purposes. My skin was set ablaze as I recalled the moment I had insinuated intimacy with him. I had decided to do so in a playful manner, was way too shy to be upfront about it, and somehow beyond my wildest dreams, Shepard had said he felt the same way about me.

But maybe that was only a few days ago when he didn't know he had other prospects lined up for him.

Annoyed, I sipped my drink. The liquid burned the back of my throat, a welcoming distraction from the two turians who sat across from me. I briefly caught them sneering in my direction and whispering to each other, obviously poking fun at how quarians fed themselves.

Influenced by the alcohol, I felt an adrenaline rush fire through my body, pumping my hunger for violence. But just as I was ready to get out of my seat, the room began to spin, and I was forced to squeeze my eyes shut until the nauseating twister settled. My fingers gripped desperately at the edge of the bar for support as the music boomed louder than ever, people's laughter magnifying in volume and echoing in time with my erratic heartbeats. A cold wave of fear suddenly washed over me. What if…what if they were all laughing at me? Miranda, Kelly, Jack, Shepard…what if they were talking about me, saying how stupid I look when I drink, how silly I must appear in my suit and mask in the midst of an environment that practically oozed cheap sex.

"Stop, Tali! You are being paranoid," I told myself.

I had long since stopped caring about what others thought about me and quarians in general. After all, I had already heard the worst there was to say about my kind. However, being near Shepard and falling in love with him had brought back all my insecurities tenfold, because if we were to ever truly be together in the future, it would no longer just be about me. It would be about him too—and I had seen enough relationships to realize that people viewed one partner based on the other. I would have never been exonerated of treason if it were not for Shepard's impressive profile, and oh… that edge of intimidation and aggression (that I secretly loved and was hopelessly turned on by) certainly helped.

"That is why…it is…so…frustrating…for…me…to…" I moaned pitifully into my straw. When I opened my eyes and peered into the straw's opening, I thought I could see my words literally being spelled out as they spiraled down to the bottom of my drink, where they were stabbed by my plastic trident. "Die die die—"

The music suddenly waned to dying beats, and before the next techno song stirred an even larger crowd at the dance floor, I sensed someone behind me.

I did not need to turn around for I already knew who it was, had already committed the sound of his footsteps to memory, just like I had with every one of his little nuances. I had memorized so much because I had seen so much, watched for so long, because I was good at only that—inspecting him from afar, always too afraid to initiate anything more than a lighthearted conversation. Normally I would have greeted him with a cheery quip, but I felt no drive at the moment to do so. In fact, I felt a little sick in his presence.

Shepard called my name, and then the two turians echoed back, twisting my name into sounding like something howled by an animal.

Shepard's footsteps took a turn, and I glanced up to see him walk past me and towards the two fools in the same casual manner he did when asking for directions. One of them dared to imitate my drinking, his hand pretending to wrap around an invisible straw as his lips sucked on air; he looked like a rotting, dead fish, completely unsuspecting of my commander behind him. I smirked to myself, had already anticipated that Shepard was going to pull a Shepard. The two punches aligned in time with my sip, and the sweetness of the liquor lingered on my tongue this time.

He silently observed them lying on the floor, their screams swallowed by the club's music and the throbbing cadence of the dancers. One of the turians grasped his ribcage and the other clutched his face, blood flowing from his mouth and turning his teeth blue. Shepard then returned to my side and placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, steadying my swaying. I coldly shrugged his grip away and raised my drink again, but it was already gone before I could bring it towards my mouth. I swiped the air for my glass that had somehow ended up in Shepard's hand, but he instantly drained what was left before sliding the empty glass across the bar towards Lexi look-alike.

Pouting, I stretched my arms longingly across the bar and elbowed his rib hard, disconnecting his sight from the Lexi clone. "Why can't you just let me drink and be happy? Frozen Pyjake isn't cheap. You owe me credits for that," I managed to say in between newly emerging hiccups. "AND a whirly straw. Purple whirly straw, must be purple."

Shepard turned away from the bartender and leaned against the countertop with a rare and goofy smile uncharacteristically stitched across his face. "Well hello to you, too. I was looking for you. What are you doing, hiding all the way back here?"

I rolled my eyes, my anger steadily bubbling. I really wanted to tell him that he probably would have found me a lot sooner if he hadn't been staring at Miranda's chest, but I didn't want to sound like a catty bitch so I swallowed the poison and let it fester in my gut—and it burned so badly. "Look harder next time."

He frowned and crossed his arms. "Are you upset about something?"

"Oh no, not at all. Why would I be?" I asked innocently, sarcasm dripping with every syllable.

Shepard shrugged. "No reason. My mistake then. Anyway, I was hoping to dance with you."

I snarled under my breath, annoyed that he had dismissed the topic so casually.

He leaned in so close to me that his face was just breaths away from my mask. I desperately wanted to inhale his scent so I could fulfill my curiosity of what he smelled like. In my fantasies, he bore the fragrance of motor oil, sweat, and gentle sea breeze.

"Oh?" I glared at him expectantly.

"Yeah, I haven't really seen you around since we last talked about your…uh…research options. How's that coming along, by the way?" As slight as the hopefulness in his inflection was, I did not miss it.

The reason that he hadn't seen me around was because I had spent every available moment researching herbal supplements and antibiotics when I wasn't working in the engine room. I had come up with a decent list of options and carefully gone over it with Doctor Chakwas, who had been very patient with me. I suddenly felt bad for calling her a bosh'tet and decided I would help her install a new medical program to clear my conscience.

"Non-existent," I lied in an effort to guard my hurt feelings.

"Oh. That's too bad…"

I hoped he wasn't as disappointed as he looked. I immediately regretted my answer when silence filled the air between us, suffocating and uncomfortable, lingering like smog. Not wanting to risk losing his attention, I had no choice but to push aside my fear. Taking a deep breath and letting sheer faith allay my nausea, I motioned for Shepard to follow me to the dance floor.

As I got closer and closer to the center, I felt like I was entering a warzone. My hand reflexively reached for my gun. Tracing its existence with my fingertips and appreciating its powerful presence lent me the strength to push forward. I felt no different than approaching a battlefield. I was entering unknown territory, flanked by the proximity of threats. The only difference was that the damages dealt here would hurt more than flesh wound, and there was no place to hide for cover against the assault.

The lights seem to penetrate the glass of my mask, and I suddenly felt like I was losing my focus on sight and hearing. Standing at the heart of the music, I heard gunfire in place of violent pulses, fueling my adrenaline surge and scattering an unnatural course of energy throughout my body. Without thinking too much, I began to move a little. My feet lurched back and forth experimentally. Not knowing what to do with my hands, I quickly found the nearest target in sight and began to mimic her motion of throwing her arms in the air. I was vaguely aware that I was now jumping on my toes and waving my hands as if I were welcoming back my baby girl, Chikktika vas Paus.

I had no idea what I looked like dancing and could only hope that I appeared half as sexy as my female crewmates. I forced myself to think 'sexy' and hoped that added to the effect. The lights overhead dimmed, submerging me into the shadows, where I felt immensely more comfortable. The darkness had always been a second home to me, and navigating it on the dance floor was no different than navigating it anywhere else. My survival reflexes kicked in, swaying me to the right with a fluid sweep of my leg, and then a dodge to the left, jab, hook, twist kick–

-bumping into a sleazy old human, who whistled as he caught my waist and pulled me against his toothpick frame.

My fist shot out to punch his face but only ended up slicing air. I turned around and found that Shepard already had the man's neck wrapped in a vise-like grip. His fingers around my waist fell away like a lifeless rope, all focus fixating on oxygen supply.

"Hey, is there a problem? If you don't want any trouble, I suggest you find another dance partner." Shepard dropped the man on the ground, scornfully eyeing the offender gasping for breath as he scurried off like the rodent he was.

I too was hungry for air. Shepard's sexy, mischievous grin was far blinding than any light in the room. Unfortunately, I wasn't the only one who noticed. Shepard always had a habit of making a scene, except this time I was the focal point of it. A few women around us stopped what they were doing to get a closer look at him, giggling to each other and swooning over this dashing stranger who had just defended my honor.

Then I saw the dirty and disapproving looks they gave me, and my heart swelled with a dull and infectious throb of pain, the kind of festering agony that burrowed itself into the deepest recess of your mind, slowly debilitating your psyche and common sense. Keelah, why couldn't he also punch out those stupid faces?

Realizing that I hadn't moved in my spot, Shepard reached out to lightly touch my arm. I flinched as if I had just been burned.

"Hey, what's the matter?" he asked, stepping closer to me and completely oblivious to the staring around us.

The lights then beamed down hard, sweeping away the darkness with its neon cyclones and stirring a wave of nausea that I tried to swallow away. My feet felt extremely heavy, like they were cemented to the ground. The room started to spin again, only this time it was much faster than before. Everyone's faces blurred together and their voices became one. It was a scary sight and sound. I was quickly regretting every drop of alcohol that entered my system when my body quaked violently as I fought down my vomit.

I felt someone roughly grab my hands before I fell backwards. Even though I was on the verge of passing out, I knew it was Shepherd from the way his thumb applied extra pressure against my pulse. I wanted to warn him to get away but was too afraid that I would just eject everything in my stomach if I opened my mouth to speak. Instead, I bit down on my lower lip and tried to nudge him away with my shoulder, which only caused me to lose my balance. I fell forward into his arms and let out a startled yelp. In that moment, I lost all control of suppressing my gag, and for the first time I was glad I was confined in my suit and mask.

The last thing I saw was a gush of dissolved nutrient paste splattered over the glass of my mask, nothing past that. I was glad I could not see Shepard's face because I didn't think I would be able to forget his look of disgust. My last thought before I phased out was that I was glad Shepard had knocked out those two idiot turians at the bar and chased away the last scum, for it meant three fewer people witnessing Tali vas No-Ship-Should-Take-Her making a fool of herself.

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><p>AN: More to follow! Thanks for reading!


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